


The choice

by CactusWren



Series: Finger Exercises [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Demons, Insanity, Ose, Ose MOROSE, demon!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CactusWren/pseuds/CactusWren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How dare this – creature, this “demon”, this obscene monstrosity, sit in John's chair?  Lean comfortably back against John's Union Jack cushion?  Wear John's blue jumper, John's skin, John's scars, <i>John's face?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The choice

**Author's Note:**

> The short pieces I post to the KinkMeme are mostly in the nature of finger exercises for writing: just playing around, seeing if I can fill a prompt (usually not in the nature of anything I'd normally write) while remaining true to the characters as I see them and keeping my writing muscles in shape. So I've called this loose assemblage, mostly of prompt fills, the Finger Exercises series.

“He doesn't scream for you any more,” the voice says pleasantly. “At least, he does still scream, but not for you. If you're interested.”

There will never not be outrage. How dare this – creature, this “demon”, this obscene monstrosity, sit in John's chair? Lean comfortably back against John's Union Jack cushion? Wear John's blue jumper, John's skin, John's scars, _John's face?_ “Obviously you're eager to tell me,” Sherlock murmurs, turning away, giving all his attention to the pinboard on the wall.

“Oh, my. I know you hate me, you needn't look at me that way. Your hatred is _delicious,_ you know that?” It smiles at him, _John's smile._ “Almost as tasty as his pain. Not as sweet, or as filling, no – but far more complex, and so flavorful. Mm, John and Sherlock. Two great tastes that taste great together.”

It turns – _John's hands_ turn – a page in the newspaper. “Where was I? Oh, yes, his screaming. He's screaming right now, in fact. Did you ever hear John scream?”

Sherlock does not allow his hands to close into fists. “No.”

“Oh, you should,” in the tone of one recommending a good book. _Have you read it yet? You should!_ “At first it was for you – for a long time. Pleading for you to help him. But you never did. Then, for escape, for death. Over and over: 'Please … let me die'.” Its expression changes. “Well, there was another word in there. But over and over, 'let me die, let me die'.”

Sherlock swallows hard against nausea.

“But now, he's pleading for _insanity,_ of all things. Begging me for madness. Begging to be _allowed_ to go insane.” It chuckles. “Can't think why. Maybe he believes the pain will be less if he's insane. Oh, how wrong he is on _that_ score – ”

It sits forward in the chair. “There's an idea! I'll let you choose. Shall I give him what he wants, Sherlock? All along I've been planning to hold him, to – enjoy him. Until, _sane,_ he decides of his own free will to give himself to me. Until, _sane,_ he chooses to become what I am.

“But now, there's this alternative. Oh, this is going to be _so_ entertaining. Shall I do what I'd planned all along? Or shall I … give him what he wants? And then release him to you, but so far beyond sanity that you'll never retrieve him? Which would you rather, Sherlock? John under me, John _mine?_ Or me gone forever ... and John in restraints, in a locked ward, shrieking even through the sedation, to the end of his days?

“You'll hear him, you know. You won't be able to stop yourself going to him. Even when he screams at the sight of you. You won't be able to let go of the hope, that _this time_ it will be different. You know why 'hope' was the last thing left in Pandora's box, don't you?”

Sherlock refuses to look at the smile, John's smile, this monstrous thing wearing _John's smile._ “Yes,” he whispers.

“And why was it? Tell me.”

“Because – ” Sherlock stops, swallows, forces his voice to audibility. “Because hope is the greatest torment of all.”

“You _do_ understand!” That expression of delight. “You'll go to him, again and again down the years, down the _decades,_ tormenting yourself more than I ever could. And every word he screams, you'll know the meaning. Every hallucination he raves about, you'll understand him. Every time he strains against his bindings, you'll know he's trying to claw his own eyes out, and you'll know why. When he bites his own tongue out of his head, you'll know all the words he was trying to keep from uttering. When he batters his head against the walls, you'll know what he's trying to beat out of his brain – and when at last he renders himself palsied and drooling and witless, you'll look into his mad eyes and know he's failed.”

It smiles at him. Its eyes are black and bottomless. “Take your time. Not too much, though. He's very close, now, sometimes.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one was really inspired by my discovery of the Demon!John conceit on [DaftWithOneShoe](http://daftwithoneshoe.tumblr.com/tagged/demon!John/)'s Tumblr. I just twiddled with the idea for a while and this fell out through my hands. It was _not_ directly inspired by _Supernatural_ although I admit the influence is there for all to see.


End file.
